


Black Widow

by mikawaaa



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Bride! Waylon AU, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Murder, Pre Asylum, Variant! Waylon AU, Vomiting, Widow! Waylon AU, alternate au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:14:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24780640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikawaaa/pseuds/mikawaaa
Summary: "I'm fine, sorry for the worry.""Waylon? It's okay if you're... You know, not okay. I know you haven't been feeling well lately."She wasn't wrong. You really didn't feel well.She just didn't know how bad it had gotten. Just as much as she didn't know how sore you felt, aching from the long, deep scratches you obtained across your arms and neck.
Kudos: 3





	Black Widow

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Fair disclaimer; this work will not be involving any kind of romantic relationship or any sort of like... sick fan service people want out of this? 
> 
> This is a character study for my own personal version of variant! Waylon, and I would like for that to be respected. This story and version of Waylon are not going to be some sick rape fantasy, for MULTIPLE, obvious reasons, but an exploration of his deteriorating mental state and how he ends up admitted and there on there forth. With that being said, this is only my second time writing out a fanfiction, I'm trying my hardest >:]

You never intended on sitting on top of the toilet lid for so long. How long were you even there?  
"Waylon, are you alright?" 

That seemed to snap you out of the daze, followed by a gentle knock. You didn't realize you had locked yourself in there, and you didn't realize a little less than an hour had passed. 

You felt ashamed, getting up and staring in the mirror. You felt so dreadful, the night had been long. Work was long. Why was everything going by so slowly, feeling like it's taking so long? pushed into 25 years, you felt like you were already near your end. 

The moment you unlocked and opened the door, you were met with her worried face. You don't know how long she's been home, just that she's been home enough to know you locked yourself in a bathroom. Also, she knew exactly that you weren't feeling yourself. 

"I'm fine, sorry for the worry."  
"Waylon? It's okay if you're... You know, not okay. I know you haven't been feeling well lately."

She wasn't wrong. You really didn't feel well. 

She just didn't know how bad it had gotten. Just as much as she didn't know how sore you felt, aching from the long, deep scratches you obtained across your arms and neck. 

"Let's go out,", she changed the topic eagerly at your blank stare. You nodded, but you didn't really hear exactly what she said. Whatever it was, it translated into the same muffling you heard from the night prior. 

You were so messy. Why had you gotten so messy, Waylon? It was so shameful. It showed on your body, reminding you of what you simultaneously willingly and not willingly did. 

You two had a seat, you and Lisa. You two had gone to some small little local restaurant in your town, taking an outside seat. You needed the fresh air, and she could tell. You boxing yourself up was common, and you often liked to sit out on the balcony of the apartment when you felt like the walls were beginning to close in. 

She watched as you stared meaninglessly into the trees, gingerly following up the mountains. She had taken to switching her eyes between the straw wrapper she had let a small drop of water uncrumple and your tense figure. 

"So.. Did something happen at work? I know it's..."  
"I... I don't know. I, uh, don't really- remember."  
"You don't remember work."  
"No." 

You were quiet, and you preferred the quiet, but Lisa's silence was unsettling. She was seeing right through you. You remembered work clearly, and she knew that. And you knew better than to lie to her. She only narrowed her eyes, furrowed her brows at you. 

"... Oh-kay. Well, I'm not gonna let you wallow around. I know how caught up you get."  
"I don't think I'm wallowing. I'm just thinking..."  
"... Yeah, uh, Way? There's a difference between thinking and wallowing." 

That royally annoyed you, but you were blessed with some sort of natural poker face growing up. She was capable of reading your mannerisms, yet was inept to read emotions off of your face. Even when you smiled warmly to others, she knew you just did it to keep some sort of peace, or to keep an overbearing boss from firing him on the spot. The job was shit, but he hated doing interviews. Lisa knew that. 

"Do you, um... Do you think you can eat? I know you kinda... Don't when you don't feel fine,"  
"... I'll try." 

And so you did. You tried taking measly bites of some bread roll, trying to stomach bites of the appetizer when it came out of the kitchen. It looked all so, so sickeningly familiar. Familiar enough you didn't want to look at it.

Lisa didn't even bother you when you stood up and practically sprinted for the closest bathroom. You didn't even bother to realize the look of shaken up staff and mildly disturbed guests.

Once again, you didn't remember how much time passed. Only was it when Lisa came and knocked did you snap out of it. Though this time, you had the lingering taste of bile in the back of your throat, and there was most definitely vomit in the bowl. 

"Waylon..."  
"C-Can you just- meet me back in the cah... Car?"  
"... Yeah. I can do that. I'll get the check and some boxes." 

She was disappointed, lacing her words with worry because she knew you weren't really in control of it. You figured, either way, she's torn up that you aren't really talking to her. There was just no good way for you to. 

The taste still lingered, no matter how hard you tried to rinse your mouth. It was even more apparent when you waited for Lisa in the car, pressing your head against the window. The cool of the glass was comforting. You even began to sweat by now, something you often didn't find yourself doing with the cold night air Colorado gave.

You glanced over to the driver's side the moment you saw Lisa marching towards, looking personally agitated. It hurt to see, but the best remedy was to ignore it in your eyes. Even when she opened the door and got in, you looked out of your own side of the car. 

"Waylon, can you talk to me?"  
"Sorry, Lisa. I think I'm just too stressed."  
"You think?"  
"... I guess I am."

The silence was even worse this time. She was looking at you now, and you didn't want to look back. It wasn't long before she forced herself to lean back carefully into the seat. 

"Sorry. I shouldn't be... Pressuring you to talk. I'm just- really, really worried about you. You're so cold, I just want to know if you're okay."

That was enough to get you stumped. It was hard to figure out what to say. Shunning her was only annoying her. Your emotions were just so, so personal. She couldn't possibly understand that right now. 

"I'll be okay. I promise." 

She just nodded. You kept quiet. 

"How did it feel to murder that man?" 

Cold chills came in immediately, heart racing desperately. You wondered how she saw the scratches, or even any blood for that matter. You had buried all you could find that would have been contaminated. The sweating was much worse now. You felt parched, and not just because you had neglected your water at the table. 

"What?"  
"How did it feel to vomit in public?"

She said it with a giggle under her breath. An attempt to lighten the mood, but you swore you heard something else not too long ago. Your eyes were wide, and oh-so frightened was your body. Your flight response felt like it was creeping up on you. 

"Wh- What? I-I mean- I.. It's as good as you expect.."  
"You went reaaaal pale, babe. I think you've got a bug... That bread didn't do much for you."

You just nodded. She smiled cheekily. 

"Water off a ducks back about dinner, things happen... I'll just make some soup for you when we get back, I can eat the rest of the app."  
"Okay." 

All of a sudden, all of those feelings began to vanish. You felt more at peace, but that really wasn't saying much. You were still shaken. And if it weren't for the fact you had genuinely gutted a man not too long ago, you might've considered getting a psych evaluation. 

After Lisa went to bed, you were wide awake. You were stuck awake. You wondered just how long it would be until the body was discovered. He covered as much of the evidence as possible, but the bodies of water never seemed to cover bodies for that long. 

You felt like your brain was burning, and at the same time, the image of the corpse was burned into your brain. What would Lisa truly think? It sounded so much like her when she said it. You weren't even convinced she truly wasn't aware of your midnight shenanigans. You almost wanted to kill her, to make sure your secret stayed between you both if she weren't lying. 

But you couldn't imagine taking a knife to her. She deserved a lot more. You weren't convinced you could kill your best friend anyways. 

But, maybe, and just maybe, you could. someone else.


End file.
